


Growth

by PerpetualSpinster



Category: On My Block (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, reformed oscar diaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerpetualSpinster/pseuds/PerpetualSpinster
Summary: You grew up with Spooky, but his change from the gang life is a new man you have yet to know.  Despite the changes, you feel like he is more himself than he ever had been before.
Relationships: Oscar "Spooky" Diaz/Reader
Kudos: 12





	Growth

Sitting on your front porch step, your niece plays happily in the newly bloomed dandelions in the yard.

“Agh! BUG!” She shrieks running toward you with the fluffy white dandelion clutched in her hand. She runs between your legs, swinging her little body around to look for the offensive creature, sending her bobbles flying at your eyes and nose.

“Whoa! Slow down! Was it a bee or a wasp or something?” You ask, patting the top of her braids gently.

“A ant! It crawled on me,” she whines burying herself further against your body.

“Oh, sweet baby it won’t hurt you. Don’t be silly,” you say in a calm tone. Like her mother, she hates bugs, can’t stand the sight of even one.

She steps out to the grass looking where she steps and suddenly you see her foot stomp down hard.

“Die bug!” she says with the spirit of ten vikings.

“NO! Don’t kill it! I said don’t mess with them, that’s their house!”

“Thought it your house?” She asks in confusion.

You nod. “Yes, it’s my house but the grass is their house. Just tell them to go home.”

She looks down at the grass and her little body jerks as she spots another one. 

“Go home bug! Go home bug!” She wags her dandelion at them for good measure, making you laugh as a burgundy Honda pulls up.

“There’s mama!” you say more for yourself than for your niece. You love her dearly but this child has sucked so much energy out of you this weekend, you were happy to release her to her primary provider.

Your sister rolls down the window. “Hey! Come on DeeDee, get in! Mama missed you!” 

Your niece guns it for the backseat door, crawling in with your assistance as you strap her into her booster seat.

“Was she good?” your sister asks.

“An angel. We watched movies and ate snacks and played on the tablet. Auntie’s house is the playpen.” After DeeDee is buckled you kiss her chubby cheeks in a hug. “I’ll miss you! See you later!”

“Miss you!” she says, plucking her dandelion of all its fluff.

“Girl are you expecting company tonight?” your sister says, looking out her windshield.

When you poke your head up, you’re initially confused by who it was until his facial features came into focus. Just 20 feet away, slowly walking up to you with that same strong gait is Spooky aka Oscar Diaz.

“Y’all drive safe. Text me when you’re home.”

“Is that Spooky? Girl, what’s he doing here? Are ya’ll talk-”

You close the door on her and wave, mouthing at her to get the fuck on somewhere. As she pulls off you check him out fully. Instead of the two sizes too big Dickies, he has appropriately sized jeans. His trademark wife beater is now a short sleeve button down. And who knew he had all those gorgeous curls now that he stopped cutting it.

He stands about 10 feet from you with his hands in his pockets, shrinking himself a little bit. 

“What’s up?” he asks.

You stare at him for a while, shaking your head slowly. “Spooky…”

He stares at the grown, turning his body from you defensively. “You didn’t used to call me that.”

You scoff at him. “Yeah because you would demand that I call you Spooky. You had the neighborhood rattled but you didn’t rattle me.”

He looks at his surroundings behind him, across the street before looking to you again. He looked like a wounded dog coming home from getting picked on by some meaner dogs.

“Oscar…” you draw out his name like a song, taking a step toward him.

He looks aimlessly at the sky now, ignoring you.

“Oscar Diaz!” You cheerfully scream, running up to him and flinging your arms around his neck. He barely flinches, holding you up with his protective arms gradually tightening around you. A natural sway moves between you two as you envelope each other in the hug. Your fingers play with the soft hairs on his neck.

Taking his face in your hands, your eyes glow over him as he takes in your attention bashfully. “Ugh, you look so good! Come on inside. We gotta catch up!” 

You both sit on the couch eating popsicles and swapping stories.

“Is that your kid I saw earlier?” he asks through dyed red lips.

You screw your face up at the thought. “Hell no! I love her to death, don’t get me wrong, but HELL no! That’s my sister’s baby, remember? She was pregnant before you left.”

Oscar leans back in subtle shock. “It’s been that long? Shit.”

You take the last bite of your popsicle, cheeks suck in the sugary flavor of blue on your tongue.

“No shit about it. It’s been that long. So where did you go?”

He sits quietly, wrapping the paper around the popsicle stick. “Out of town.”

Your face drops into an unimpressed expression. “Yeah, that’s something I didn’t think about, wow. Come on Oscar.” You hold out your trash to him. “Think about it while you throw this away for me.”

He takes it, going toward your kitchen trash can. “I left but I didn’t go anywhere. I was on the road so much, I couldn’t settle down.”

“So then why are you back? The Santos ain’t looking for you?”

“We came to an understanding. Cesar took over and he isn’t gunning for me so I stepped.”

You took this information in with some relief. You didn’t think he would ever come back because of the gang but the blessing of Cesar’s curse is that he is protected.

You sit up and spread your knees apart, patting them. “Come here.”

Oscar looks at you with obvious nerves. “What are you doing?”

“I have got to get my hands in that hair. I think I can braid it!”

“I’m not down with that,” he says.

“Oh please! It’s not like someone is gonna see, it’s you and me.”

Oscar stands before you in a staring contest with you. You wag your eyebrows at him playfully until he concedes, rolling his eyes all the way.

“I’m not wearing it out so don’t braid it all,” he demands, moving the coffee table over and lowering himself on the floor between your thighs. You spread a little more to accommodate his shoulders and rake your hands through his hair as each wave and curl hugs your fingers and relent to your detangling.

“Damn, look at this! It’s so soft too. You treat it well?”

He shrugs. “I wash it.”

You snicker and give it a light sniff. “Smells good too. Wow, I can’t believe after all these years of me telling you you’d look better with hair, the day has finally come!”

You part his hair to one side and section a few locs of hair to start a cornrow. 

“Did I mention that I am shitty at cornrowing?” You say as you slowly form a halfway organized braid along his scalp.

Oscar’s eyes are closed. “It’s fine. At least it feels good.”

You make it halfway down his head but the braid is anything but neat. You pull it apart and ruffle his hair some more, opting to just play in it a while.

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” Oscar asks as his head flops under the motion of your hands. You stare at the TV playing at low volume in front of you. 

“Do you want me to be?” You ask, twirling a curl to exaggerate its natural structure.

Oscar turns to try and look back. “Maybe. I shouldn’t have left on those terms.”

“What choice did you have, Oscar?” you bemoan.

“I had a lot of choices. I could’ve did so many things but I chose the Santos. And when things got rough, I chose myself instead of you. I could’ve helped your family.”

You pull his hair tightly back so his face looks up at you. He looks uncomfortable, his hazel eyes wince under your hands.

“You aren’t responsible for what happened, how many times did I tell you this.” You hold the sides of his face, caressing his cheeks under your thumbs. “Your gang wasn’t even involved in the shooting.”

“But he’s gone. Your father died on Santos turf after we aggravated Prophet$. He wasn’t the target but I take full responsibility.”

Your eyes well up as the memory comes back to you. “I miss him everyday. But I missed you too, Oscar. You knew him too, and it hurt me that you weren’t here to mourn with me.” You run your hands over his neck, his chest. His heart beats heavily under your palm. “But I understood. I would rather you be safe than vengeful or dead. I couldn’t handle losing you too.”

Oscar takes either side of your face to pull yours down to his in an upside down kiss. You ball his shirt in your hands from the shock but when he pulls away, the softness in his face tempers you. 

You kiss him once more, feeling the years apart melt away as time catches up to you in this gesture between you. When your lips part, you ask him to stay.

Oscar gets up, sitting next to you on the couch, holding your hand looking every bit nervous as ever.

“Do you mean that? Cuz I can give you space. I didn’t come here to claim nothing. I wouldn’t be surprised if you moved on and had somebody,” he says with unadulterated humility.

You rest your hand beside his face, smile growing wide as you enjoy the company of your friend, and possibly more. “I can’t think of a better thing to do then share my space with you. You belong here, don’t forget that. I never gave up on you Oscar, and I know its mutual cuz you came back today.”

You turn your back to him and lay your head onto his lap, turning to watch the TV. Oscar smirks at you putting one hand on the couch and the other in your hair.

“Thank you, for believing in me.” Oscar says.

You reach on the table and hand him a bottle of Jamaican black castor oil. “Best way to thank me is right here.”


End file.
